


i find you most bewitching

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (…AU style), Bom!Lotor, M/M, Modern Fantasy AU, fairy prince Lotor, half-fae Keith, keith & shiro are BFFs, magical powers for everyone wheeeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Yeah, the man is a fairy prince. Yeah, he saved Keith’s life. But that doesn’t make himKeith’sprince. Even if heisgorgeous. [A gift for @levianard for the Voltron Ship Exchange!]





	i find you most bewitching

As usual, Keith’s the last one out of Witch’s Brew. Lance had left early, claiming homework, but Keith had already caught him texting when he was supposed to be scrubbing mugs. The phrase “see you soon, babe” had appeared in one message. Keith doubted said _babe_ was Lance’s modern lit paper. But it’s whatever—he likes closing alone anyway. There’s not much in the way of order and certainty in his life, but he always finds some peace in setting up smallwares just right for the openers. And it’s a warm June evening, so he’s looking forward to the walk home. It’s not bad at all—less than a mile, and even shorter if he cuts through a little patch of woodland. Tonight the trees draw him in without question, enticing in the purple twilight.

Soon he’s gone deep enough into the woods that the neighborhood on its border is out of sight. That’s when he hears a soft rumble like distant thunder, although the sky is perfectly clear. Out from behind a massive oak tree comes a dog, walking stiff-legged, the hair on its back raised. It growls louder when it sees him.

Keith chances a glance over his shoulder, but there’s no one else around and there’s no way he can run fast enough to reach someone’s house. He tries backing up slowly, but the dog keeps stalking toward him. Two yards away from him, its lips curl.

Keith has just enough time to see its eyes start to blaze with brilliant yellow light, and then it takes him down with a leap at his chest. Pinned to the dirt path, the beast snarling in his face, Keith notices with a sort of terrified curiosity that its teeth are made of metal—gleaming steel fangs with razor edges. He pushes at its body as hard as he can, trying to get a hand free to reach the knife in his pocket, but any moment now it’s going to take his arms off—

Then its weight lifts off him abruptly and completely. He hears it yelping as if in pain—and he hears the yelping end in a choked-off squeal. The night has become darker than it should be, as if a cloud of dense black fog has covered the ground, and he can’t see more than a few feet around him. The only sound is the soft crunch of footsteps moving toward him from the left. He rolls sideways and scrambles to his feet, sliding a hand into his pocket and closing his fingers around the knife handle.

“You won’t have need of your weapon, so I suggest you do not draw it.” The voice is silky and self-assured, and Keith releases the handle of the knife. It no longer seems necessary. Then the owner of the voice steps out of the darkness, and everything about him is just as unrealistic as a dog with metal teeth.

Surreptitiously, Keith twists the skin on the inside of his forearm; the pain makes him hiss.

The newcomer pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why do your kind _always_ do that? You’re not dreaming, Keith.” He holds up a hand when Keith opens his mouth. “You must be wondering how I know your name. It so happens that I am far more familiar with your life story than you are, and I think it’s time we had a chat. Don’t you?”

* * *

“I must beg your pardon,” the man says. “Had I arrived a touch sooner, you would never have been attacked at all. But Queen Haggar let her beast loose in your world while I was occupied elsewhere, and it was some time before I realized. Rest assured, I will be watching her much more closely now.”

Under the fluorescent bulb in Keith’s kitchen, it’s clear that what he saw in the woods was no trick of the dim evening light: the man’s skin is of a definite lavender hue, and his hair is bright white despite his apparent youth. Not to mention his pointy ears. Still, there must be a rational explanation, even if the man—who has introduced himself as Prince Lotor, emphasis on _Prince_ —is refusing to give him one. “You really expect me to _believe_ any of this? You seem awfully tall for a fairy.”

“And you seem awfully short for a human, but it does not matter a bit to me if you believe it or not. The fact remains that I saved your life. Thus, you owe me a favor.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

Lotor lets that slide. “Haven’t you ever wondered where your knife came from?”

Keith repeats the familiar phrase he heard throughout his childhood: “It’s a family heirloom.”

“And so it is. But from which side? And with what history?”

“I guess my dad didn’t really have time to tell me before vanishing into thin fucking air.”

“Allow me to tell you, then: it was your mother’s knife.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I have one just like it.” Lotor reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a knife and placing it on the little table by the kitchen window. “There is a rebel guild under the Hill working to counter the queen’s cruel magic, and we are issued this blade upon swearing allegiance. That is where I knew your mother.”

“No way,” Keith says, folding his arms. “There’s no fucking way my mom was like you.” He circles his finger at himself. “See any purple skin or pointy ears on me?”

“Of course not. You take after your father in that way.”

Keith eyes Lotor’s knife. Its wide blade, its slender handle, and the inset sigil burning violet—in every detail, it is the twin of Keith’s. “I’ve heard of fairy gold. How do I know I’m not looking at an enchanted leaf or something?”

“Haven’t you a witch stone?”

“A _what_.”

“My stars, you really were kept far away from your identity. How sad,” Lotor sighs. “A witch stone, my dear, is simply a stone with a hole through the center. It will allow you to see through a glamour, so if I have in fact magicked a leaf to trick you, you’ll know.”

“I might have one,” Keith says, thinking of the rows of stones along the top of his dresser drawers. He’s collected them for years, and he already knows there’s one smooth rock with a small hole in it.

“Why not go and get it?” Lotor asks, and it’s not as though Keith feels _compelled_ to go; more that the suggestion seems like the best idea he’s heard in a week—rather like feeling ravenous and then being told there’s a great burger place around the corner.

He shakes his head, trying to throw off the sensation. “Don’t _do_ that.” He glowers at Lotor, who blinks innocently.

“I’m ever so sorry. It just slips out sometimes.”

Keith doesn’t think Lotor sounds very sorry at all. “I don’t trust you alone in my kitchen.”

“What am I going to do, summon the entire Unseelie Court with—” Lotor squints at the cupboards, whose doors are shut tight. “A few boxes of macaroni and cheese, one package of ramen, and a wilted carrot?” He jerks his head in the direction of the refrigerator. “Believe me, you have nothing I could use to plot against you. And it would be terribly rude of me to try, since I have come to negotiate with you.”

The logic, Keith has to admit, is sound. “I _was_ going to stop for groceries earlier,” he informs Lotor. “But you and that dog thing showed up and ruined my plans for the evening.”

“My deepest apologies.” Lotor snaps his fingers; one of the cupboards flares purple at its edges for a moment before the color fades. “You will no longer need to purchase foodstuffs as long as you inhabit this place.”

“What did you just do?”

“Is that truly a concern at the moment? Fetch the witch stone, please.” This time there’s no push behind the words.

“I’m going,” Keith tells him. “Don’t try anything weird.”

* * *

Viewed through the witch stone, Lotor’s knife looks exactly the same. Then Keith turns his gaze on Lotor, and—“ _Oh_ ,” Keith says faintly.

“You see? I _have_ put a glamour on myself to allow an easier passage through your world. But I’ve done nothing to my knife. Keith, everything I have told you is the truth, and I am desperate for your help.”

Keith can’t bring himself to put the stone down. Lotor’s true form is _stunning_ , and Keith wants to memorize every detail of him. The sparkling jewels sewn into his clothing, the lines of his muscles, a great deal of bare skin—and long swooping wings like a butterfly’s, all black but for shimmering hints of rainbow where the light strikes them just right. 

Lotor folds his arms over his chest. “If you’re quite finished gawking at me—”

Keith snaps his eyes away from Lotor’s collarbones. “I’m not gawking!” He shoves the stone into his pocket, but even as he looks at Lotor without it, the memory of his beauty overlays him. Keith wills his heart to pound _slightly_ less wildly. “So where’s my mother now, since you know her so well?”

“For marrying your father, she was labeled a blood traitor and was banished from the court.”

“Do you have to talk about her like that?”

Lotor scoffs. “Did I say _I_ thought such a thing of her? I only heard about it after it was done, anyway. Now, we need to hurry if—”

Keith clenches his fists at his sides. Who cares if Lotor’s a prince—he won’t let himself be blown off this way. “ _Where is she?_ ”

“No one knows. _Really_ , it’s the truth—” Lotor grabs him by the forearms as Keith tries to launch himself at him. “Now, now, is that any way to treat your prince?”

“You’re not my prince!”

“Not yet. But I could be, if you accept me.”

Keith goes still in Lotor’s grasp. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You, and only you, are the ruler of yourself. I do not wish to conquer you, Keith.”

Lotor is getting too fond of saying his name, in Keith’s opinion. “Good, because that’s not happening.”

“I mean to become the emperor of Faerie, and I want to form an alliance between my world and yours. My court has been directing its malice at humans for far too long. The queen’s efforts to spark an all-out war are unnecessary—a complete waste of energy. The simplest way to bring about such a pact is to bind myself to a human.”

“Why me? Isn’t there some other half-fae person out there you could chase?”

“Certainly, but it is _our_ fates that have seen fit to intertwine themselves. And I find you most bewitching.”

Unbidden, Keith’s mind considers other kinds of intertwining. Entangling. Whatever. He shakes his head hard, as if flinging irritating raindrops out of his hair. “Stop that,” he tells Lotor.

“Whatever you were thinking about just now was not my doing.” Lotor is attempting to conceal a smile. And failing utterly. “Though I must say it has brought a lovely glow to your cheeks.”

Keith sputters some kind of unconvincing excuse even he doesn’t believe, but Lotor continues talking.

“Our agreement would require only a simple trade: one kiss, under the full moon.”

“That’s _it?_ ”

“Would you prefer a blood oath? Personally I find it a barbaric practice, but if it would calm your fears—”

“No!”

“In that case, yes, nothing more than a kiss.”

“That doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Haven’t you ever read a fairytale? The human stories are…creative, to be sure, but they get a few things right. There _is_ magic in a kiss.”

A chance to find his mother—the opportunity is almost irresistible, but Keith can’t help thinking of the friends he’d be leaving behind. “And then you’d have me trapped in Fairyland for the rest of my life, right?”

“You misunderstand me. I would not take you as my servant, Keith. Rather, I would become yours to command. You would be just as free as you are today—to come with me under the Hill, to leave me and make your own way in Faerie, or to remain in this world. It is I who would serve you; you would be able to call me to your side whenever you had need of me. Of course, you may deny this offer if you choose.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna turn on you?”

“Your heart would never allow you to do so.”

God, it’s like Lotor is staring into his mind. Keith is almost certain he doesn’t like it. _Almost_. “Listen, my roommate will be home in a few minutes. You should go.”

“As you wish.” Lotor bows deeply to Keith, a hand over his heart. “Tomorrow night, the full moon will rise. Should you choose to bind me, come at midnight to the oak tree where we first met, and I will be waiting there.”

* * *

Sitting in the chair Lotor had vacated only minutes before, Shiro listens quietly as Keith spills the whole story. “I swear I’m not lying,” Keith says at the end of it.

“I didn’t think you were.” Shiro reaches out, placing one hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. It sounds like you’ve been handed a chance to get some answers about your past—I know you’ve always wondered about your mother.”

“It could be dangerous.”

“When has that ever been enough to keep you away?”

Whenever the fog gets too dense in Keith’s mind, Shiro’s light fills him up, warming him from the inside out. He looks up from the tabletop, finally meeting Shiro’s gaze. “Wow, it’s like you know me or something,” he teases, but the intended sarcasm dissolves when Shiro gives him a tender smile that he can’t help returning.

“I could go with you,” Shiro offers, because Shiro often knows what Keith wants before he can put it in words. “At least to the oak tree. The prince didn’t say you had to come alone, right?”

It would keep Keith braver, having Shiro more than metaphorically at his back. He wants someone to know what’s happened to him, at the very least. “I’d like that,” he whispers. “Thanks, Shiro.”

* * *

Keith keeps one hand in his pants pocket on the walk to the woods the following night, fingers clutching tight at the witch stone. Shiro follows him, never more than a step behind.

At the edge of the woods, Keith pauses. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine alone.”

“I know. But do you want to be alone?”

Keith can’t find the words to answer him, but Shiro understands anyway.

“I want to do this with you,” Shiro tells him. “Let me be there for you.” As if Keith’s doing Shiro some kind of favor by making him follow Keith into almost-certain peril.

“Okay,” Keith says in a small voice. “If you really want to.”

“I really want to. Lead the way, Keith.”

The path into the woods does not seem welcoming as it always had every other night. Despite nothing _looking_ different, it feels narrower somehow. Claustrophobic. More than once, Keith stumbles on the smooth ground, Shiro’s hand flying out to save him. After the third time he trips over nothing, Keith yanks the witch stone out of his pocket and holds it up to his eye.

The roots of trees crawl over the path, swallowing it entirely in some places, and it is these that have been catching Keith’s feet and almost sending him sprawling. He shoots a glance over his shoulder at Shiro, who has yet to lose his footing even once. “How are you not falling on your ass? Look at this—” He shoves the witch stone at Shiro, but Shiro doesn’t take it.

Shiro shifts his weight uneasily. “…I don’t need that.”

“Wait, you can see without it? What the hell, Shiro?”

“It’s not like—” Shiro shrugs helplessly. “I don’t have amazing powers or anything. When I was little, I thought I was seeing things that _weren’t_ there. Eventually I realized it was everyone else around me who saw things that weren’t there, but I could see the truth.”

“That’s why you believed me when I told you about Lotor.”

“Yes.”

Keith toys with the stone, spinning it in his hand. He hadn’t thought to put it up to a mirror. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“Enough that when I met you, I knew you must have one hell of a fascinating life story.” Shiro grins at him. “Your eyes are this deep violet color, and you have a mark—” he taps Keith’s jaw with a fingertip— “Here. You never even knew you were keeping all of that hidden, did you?”

Keith had been under the impression that glamours were always intentional, so yes, it’s taking him by surprise. “It might not be me doing it. Someone else could have done it to me.”

“Your mother?” Shiro guesses. “To protect you?”

“Maybe.” The middle of Keith’s chest knots up tight. He lacks even the faintest scrap of a memory of his mother, but he can imagine gentle hands, a desire to protect, a spell like a soft blanket wrapped around an infant—enchanting him into safe, invisible boredom. He’d like to think this was her doing.

They move deeper into the woods, the trees larger and closer together than Keith remembers. He keeps looking through the witch stone and doesn’t fall again.

He also doesn’t remember the oak tree being in the center of a clearing, but that’s where it is now, the moon high above spilling pale light across the grass. Around the tree has sprouted a thick ring of large white mushrooms, because apparently this weird fairytale into which Keith has fallen insists on using every cliche in the book. Shiro follows Keith off the path, and as they round the tree, they discover Lotor leaning against it.

Lotor bows to Keith. “You’ve made your decision?”

“I have.”

“Who is this mortal you have brought?”

Keith starts to introduce Shiro, but Shiro elbows him in the ribs. “You may call me Ryou,” he tells Lotor. “I’m a friend of Keith’s.”

“Ah, concealing your true name? I see you are familiar with protection against fairy magic.”

Shiro shrugs and says nothing more.

“Well, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, but the rest of this Keith will have to do alone. You may observe, however.” Lotor’s hair hangs loose over his shoulders, shining white as moonlight. He has left his jewels at home, yet power still surrounds him like mist rising off a lake. Next to him, Keith feels very small and plain. Then Lotor beckons to Keith. “Step into the ring and we shall begin the ceremony.”

“Be careful,” Shiro murmurs. His palm is warm on Keith’s shoulder. “Look through the stone before you make any moves.”

Keith does, and sees now the four winged beings standing in silence at the perimeter of the circle: one broad and powerful, one lithe as a whip, one short and straight-backed, and one with a creature like a cat draped around their shoulders.

“You need not fear them,” Lotor announces. “They are friends of mine and are merely here to witness the ceremony, as your friend is.”

Keith had only wanted Shiro along for moral support, but sure, yeah, he can be a witness. Whatever. As he enters the ring to stand before Lotor, a sensation like cold water spills over his whole body, making him gasp. It vanishes in an instant, and all sound outside the ring grows muted, as if he’s pushed his way into a bubble separate from the rest of the world. He glances back, and Shiro gives him a tiny nod—everything must still look normal to him. Or as normal as it’s ever going to be.

“Shall we begin?” Lotor asks.

Keith’s had every chance to say no; every chance to turn back. The promise of answers, and even better, the hope of finding his mother, urge him onward. “Go ahead.”

“Do you come to this place by your own will, without malice and free from any constraint or curse?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He sighs at Lotor’s tiny frown: “Fine, _I do_. Better?”

“Much. Specificity is necessary in these things. Do you wish to form a treaty between the mortal world and the world of the fae by binding me to yourself as both your prince and your servant?”

“I do.”

“Now ask me your questions, Keith.”

“My que—I wasn’t exactly handed a script!”

“There is no script. Simply ask whatever you want to know. In this circle, only the truth may be spoken.”

“Okay. Uh. Do you promise to keep me safe, to help me find my mother, and to let me go when I want to leave?”

“I do so promise.”

There’s a long silence while Keith thinks, then—“I guess that’s all I got,” he says. “Now what?”

“Now, you may see me as I see you, without a veil across your sight.”

“What do you— _oh_ , wow.”

Lotor has let his glamour fall, and it’s much different seeing him all at once instead of squinting at scattered pieces of his image through the witch stone. “Will you seal the treaty we have set?”

Keith’s heart is suddenly very busy trying to flee its ribcage prison by crawling up into his throat, and it’s hard to breathe. “I will,” he says, although for the life of him he can’t think how to move forward, how to meet Lotor, how to do this with four complete strangers and his own best friend watching—

But Lotor makes it simple by walking right into Keith’s reach and leaning in most of the way, letting Keith deal with the last few inches of space between them. Keith only has to go up on his toes a little bit, and then like a mildly terrified and _extremely_ startled fairytale protagonist, he’s kissing a fairy prince.

As far as kisses go, Keith supposes, this one isn’t all that magical. There’s no mysterious taste of sweet yet unrecognizable fruit; no glowing sparks swirling around them. Out of all the weird shit that’s happened to Keith in the last thirty hours or so, kissing Lotor is the _least_ bizarre of them all. He’s more startled by the fact that right now, he wants very much to grab Lotor by the high starched collar of his shirt and do it again.

Except Lotor is already turning away from him toward the oak tree, where a vertical crack of light has appeared in the bark. As Keith watches, it grows brighter and stretches wider, until there’s a narrow doorway in the side of the tree, just tall and wide enough for them to enter. Lotor holds his hand out to Keith.

But Keith can’t leave yet. “Shiro!” he calls, unsure if Shiro can even hear him through the muffling effect of whatever spell marks the boundary of the circle. “Tell Lance he’s on his own at the café for a few days!” Shiro bursts into laughter Keith can barely hear, nodding his assent.

Keith puts his hand in Lotor’s, and Lotor smiles down at him. “Come, let us seek your mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> • Aaaand that was my first time writing Keitor! :D ...I liked that, I wanna do it again.
> 
> • MANY THANKS to [@softlysheith](https://softlysheith.tumblr.com/about), [@honeyscafe](https://honeyscafe.tumblr.com), and [@copilotsheith](https://copilotsheith.tumblr.com/) for the fantastically-helpful beta work!
> 
> • Y'all, creating/running/particpating in the VSE has been such a ride and so much fun. I honestly can't tell you how overjoyed I am to have been part of something like this. <333 Big shout-outs to my fellow mods & to everyone who joined the event!!
> 
> • You can find me [on tumblr](belovedsheith.tumblr.com) yelling about sheith and a whole bunch of other ships. Come say hi! :)


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